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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062685">At the Heart of Me, There's You</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corrosive_Moon/pseuds/Corrosive_Moon'>Corrosive_Moon</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman &amp; Terry Pratchett</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Aziraphale loves Crowley, Banter, Bickering, Crowley loves Aziraphale, Dream Invasion (sorta), Drugging for Dream-Sharing Purposes Only, Espionage, Extraction (Inception), Human AU, Inception AU, M/M, Mind-Invasion (sorta), Not actual suicide, Pining, Projections (Inception), counter-espionage, dream-sharing, just killing oneself during a Dream, no knowledge of Dream-Sharing needed to understand, no knowledge of Inception needed to understand, soft, suicide in the Dream</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-03-15</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-15 17:34:55</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>General Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>5,273</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/30062685</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Corrosive_Moon/pseuds/Corrosive_Moon</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>“Our target is Anthony J Crowley,” Uriel begins.  “38-year-old male, skilled Dream Architect, known associate of DreamFall group, went to school at École d'Architecture in Paris—“</i>
</p>
<p> <i>“Isn't that where you went to school, Aziraphale?” Gabriel interrupts.</i></p>
<p> <i>“Ah, yes.  But we never met each other,” Aziraphale adds quickly. “Back then, that is.  Large school.  Large student body.” </i></p>
<p>Gabriel and Aziraphale are on a mission to Extract information from a certain Anthony J Crowley in the hopes of gaining information on HeavenCorp’s sworn enemy: the notorious crime syndicate named DreamFall.</p>
<p>Meanwhile, Aziraphale is having a moral crisis as he tries to balance a solution to obey his superiors and protect his childhood friend.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>6</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>47</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>At the Heart of Me, There's You</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Our target is Anthony J Crowley,” Uriel begins, reading off her report.  She points to a pinned picture of the redhead on their whiteboard.  “38-year-old male, skilled Dream Architect, known associate of DreamFall group, went to school at École d'Architecture[1] in Paris—“</p>
<p>“Isn't that where you went to school, Aziraphale?” Gabriel interrupts.  </p>
<p>“Ah, yes.  But we never met each other,” Aziraphale adds quickly. “Back then, that is.  Large school.  Large student body.”</p>
<p>Gabriel nods, and looks to Uriel again.  “Please, continue, Uriel.  Sorry for the interruption.”</p>
<p>Uriel clears her throat.  “He was scouted by Dreamfall before he graduated near the top of his class, and we suspect he's been working for them ever since, crafting the Dreams needed for their illicit Extraction heists.  According to our intel…” at this she glances at Aziraphale, “…his talent as a Dream Architect put him within Beel Z. Prince's good graces.  Therefore, he's likely to have information on past, current, and future plans.  Our mission is to Extract this information from him to counter DreamFall's efforts. </p>
<p>“Our set-up is Aziraphale's home.  Using their association, Aziraphale will draw the Mark into his home and drug him.  Once the Mark is asleep, we'll bring him into the Dream.  Aziraphale is the Dreamer, Gabriel is the Sleeper, and Crowley is the Subject.  Aziraphale will keep the Mark occupied while Gabriel Extracts the information.” Uriel nods at Aziraphale, who understands it as his queue to speak.</p>
<p>He clears his throat.  “I’ve chosen a luxury hotel to appeal to Crowley’s expensive tastes, which should put him at ease while we share the Dream.  The hotel has fourteen floors in order to accommodate the maze.  To make sure that the information is located in a singular area, all the safes are fake except for one.  Gabriel is already informed of which floor the safe is located in, but to minimize any potential projections interrupting our operation that is the extent of his briefing.”</p>
<p>“Won’t the Mark notice something’s wrong if he goes into a room and tries to open a safe?” Sandalphon asks, frowning skeptically.</p>
<p>“That’s why I should be with Crow—with the Mark,” Aziraphale corrects.  “I’ll find him as soon as I enter the Dream and keep his focus on me.  As the Dreamer in this operation, I’ll have the advantage of being able to manipulate the Dream as necessary.  I’m certain the Dream, itself, will not be an issue.  I’ve constructed thousands of Dreams.”</p>
<p>Michael folds her arms over her chest.  “Your architecture work is good, Fell, but when was the last time you’ve done an Extraction?  This is delicate work that’s liable to change in an instant, not a controlled Dream-Sharing in the lab where you teach our operatives how to build the Dream.”</p>
<p>“The one person in this room who knows our target best and is also skilled with Dream construction is me,” Aziraphale states definitively.  At Michael’s severe look, he deflates a little. “Though, I…  I realize it’s been a while.  But I believe it’ll be better to keep the team to a minimum, and to have a familiar face to distract the Mark while in the Dream.  And—and Gabriel’s success rate for Extractions is 92%, the highest in HeavenCorp.”</p>
<p>Gabriel puffs up with pride.  “It’ll be fine, Michael.”</p>
<p>Michael still looks unconvinced, but she drops the matter.</p>
<p>Uriel continues.  “We’ve calibrated the PASIV to run for one hour, which will give you twelve hours in the Dream.  We’ll play the ‘Sound of Music’ three minutes before the somnacin infusion ends.”</p>
<p>Their meeting concludes and Aziraphale stands quickly.  As he heads out the door, Gabriel stops him.</p>
<p>“You know, Aziraphale, I'm surprised someone like you could befriend Crowley without raising suspicion,” the other man says.  “Kind of hard to believe.”</p>
<p>“Ah, yes,” Aziraphale gives a tight smile and holds his hands in front of his belly.  “It wasn't easy, I assure you.”</p>
<p>There is a beat of silence that makes the blond’s insides squirm.  He holds his friendly expression in place.</p>
<p>“Well, I'm impressed.” Gabriel says at last, flashing his perfect teeth.  “You know, if you can get in a few more jobs like this, maybe lose the gut—” Aziraphale squeezes his hands together to keep them from flapping about nervously, “—and we can talk about a promotion to Assistant Supervisor of the Architecture Department.  Possibly getting an office instead of those drab cubicles.”</p>
<p>“Yes.  Thank you.  That’s very generous of you.”</p>
<p>“Don’t mention it.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale leaves, taking care to keep his steps measured as he goes.</p>
<p>---~*~---</p>
<p>Aziraphale frets around his living room.  He's readjusted the position of the wine and wineglasses at least five times in the last three minutes, trying to make it seem natural.  As a last-minute addition, he decides Crowley's usual couch looks too bare, so he throws an afghan and a cushion onto it.  After a moment of consideration, he decides the cushion makes the couch too crowded, and rips it off just as a knock comes to his door. </p>
<p>The blond jerks upright.  He brushes out the wrinkles in his cardigan and double-checks that the wire he’s wearing isn’t visible.  Thankfully, his natural inclination to wear more than one layer of clothing hides it well.  Aziraphale smoothes out his clothes one last time, takes a steadying breath, and goes to let in his guest.</p>
<p>“Hey, angel!”  Crowley greets, grinning widely.</p>
<p>“Crowley!” Aziraphale replies. “Do come in.  I've already poured the wine.”</p>
<p>“Eager to get started, are we?  What's your boss done now?  He take credit for your work again?  Bastard.”</p>
<p>“O-oh, no, no reason at all!  Just procured this wine today and I wanted to share.” The blond quickly ushers him to the living room.</p>
<p> Crowley throws himself into the couch.   Aziraphale watches the redhead lift up the conveniently-placed wineglass and take a sip.  Crowley makes a curious face.</p>
<p>“S'not bad,” he says, smacking his lips once. “Tastes a bit strange, though.”</p>
<p>“Does it?” Aziraphale says, cursing how high his voice is.  He snatches up his own wineglass, sits in his armchair, and takes a quick gulp.  “Tastes fine to me.  Perfectly fine.”</p>
<p>“All right there?” Crowley asks. </p>
<p>“Oh, yes, absolutely tickety-boo.  Just… just a trying day.  You know I came across a seller who has a misprinted bible and we’ve been negotiating the price all day but she's being quite adamant.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale sips his wine, which does the trick of prompting the redhead to drink again.  The drug is fast-acting and potent, and even more so when paired with alcohol.  By Aziraphale’s calculations, Crowley will be feeling it’s affects within the next few minutes.</p>
<p>“At this rate, you might as well quit HeavenCorp and open a bookshop.  You mentioned wanting something like that before.” Crowley leans back into a comfortable sprawl.  “Oh wait, that would you require you to sell them at some point.”</p>
<p>“I would never!” Aziraphale quips, their usual banter easing the tightness in his heart somewhat. </p>
<p>The redhead snickers.  “Think of it, Aziraphale, young people coming into your shop with their over-priced gourmet lattes—“</p>
<p>The blond makes a face.  “Crowley—”</p>
<p>“—and getting their grubby fingers on your precious first editions—“</p>
<p>“Perish the thought!”</p>
<p> “—pretending they’re intellectuals because their school made them read <em>Pride and Prejudice</em>.”  Crowley takes another swig of wine.</p>
<p>Aziraphale scowls into his glass.</p>
<p>But Crowley has hit his stride.  He leans forward.  “And then…” he intones lowly, dramatically. “…They’re going to <em>buy something.</em>”</p>
<p>“No!”</p>
<p>“They will,” the redhead insinuates with a broad grin.</p>
<p>“They will <em>not</em>.”</p>
<p>“And they won’t even read it.  It’ll sit on their unworthy shelves gaining dust.  You jusss…”  Crowley slurs suddenly, swaying in his seat.  He groans and braces himself on the armrest with his elbow.  Aziraphale crosses over to the couch, gently grasps the redhead’s wrist, and pulls the drink from his slackening hand.</p>
<p>“'Ziraphale…” Crowley manages, looking at the blond with half-lidded, unfocused eyes.  “Sumthin's…”</p>
<p>Aziraphale bites his lip as he eases the redhead down onto his back.  Crowley throws his hand out, uncoordinated fingers landing on the blond's shoulder.</p>
<p>“Wha…?”</p>
<p>“Hush, dear.  It's all right.”  Aziraphale whispers as the redhead's eyes close.</p>
<p>With a shaky exhale, he slides the cushion under Crowley's head, and lifts up the other man’s long legs to rest onto the couch comfortably.</p>
<p>His doorknob turns.  Aziraphale takes a moment to brush Crowley's hair from his face before Gabriel and Uriel enter.  Uriel has the silver PASIV device in hand, which she places onto the table and begins the set up.</p>
<p>“Not bad, Aziraphale,” Gabriel congratulates, patting him on the back.  “A bit stiff on the acting, but I think you got real potential as a field agent.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Aziraphale replies, wincing a little as he watches Uriel slide a needle into Crowley's wrist.  He looks away and rolls up his sleeve.</p>
<p>“Remember, all you need to do is keep him distracted.  I'll do the real work,” Gabriel drags a nearby chair over and sits down.</p>
<p>“Yes.”  Aziraphale sits in his armchair and pulls an IV line from the PASIV.  He inserts the needle into a vein in his forearm and secures it.  Once Gabriel does the same, he nods to Uriel, who returns the gesture and activates the infusion.</p>
<p>---~*~---</p>
<p>Aziraphale designed the Dream to be warm and inviting.  What he was doing to Crowley was abominable enough.  He wanted to minimize as much discomfort as possible.  Crowley always liked warm places, so he chose a sunny beach as the backdrop. </p>
<p>Aziraphale is in the pristine hotel lobby, all colorful glass and floor-to-ceiling windows and smooth, leather couches.  Queen filters through discreetly-hidden speakers as the blond crosses the dark, marble floors.  As he walks, it occurs to Aziraphale that this will be the first time he and Crowley actually shared a Dream.  Even back in their school days when they discussed and debated the limits of their Dream Architecture skills, the blond had drawn the line at Dream-Sharing together.  That stark, uncontrollable honestly in Dreams was far too telling for Aziraphale’s comfort.  After they graduated, any possibility of sharing the Dream was lost when Aziraphale applied to HeavenCorp and Crowley was drawn into DreamFall.</p>
<p>The blond shakes himself out of his reverie.  Now’s not the time to be contemplating the past.  He has to find Crowley and knowing him, he would be at the bar on the terrace where the redhead could sip his drink and enjoy the sunshine. </p>
<p>Strangely enough, Crowley is not there.  There are only a few projections: the bartender, and a couple customers.  Aziraphale looks out to the beach beyond the hotel but doesn’t see a tell-tale head of fiery-red hair.  He thinks.  There is another bar in the restaurant.  Perhaps there. </p>
<p>Aziraphale briskly makes his way to the restaurant and finds Crowley not sitting at the bar, but at one of the tables.  He's facing away and he's…</p>
<p>He's talking to Aziraphale.  Or rather, his projection of Aziraphale. </p>
<p>It's strange to see oneself in the view of another.  Projection Aziraphale looks just like him, pale and fair-haired, but his other self’s relaxed shoulders make him seem more at-ease.  He's dressed down, but Projection Aziraphale’s light-colored, button-up shirt and khaki slacks aren’t too far-fetched from his usual, formal standards. </p>
<p>Aziraphale did, on some level, recognize that it was highly probable he would meet a projection of himself.  He and Crowley have known each other so long that it was bound to happen.  It’s Crowley’s subconscious—and by extension Crowley’s projections—that are populating the Dream, after all.  But he didn’t account for how… voyeuristic it would feel.  Projection Aziraphale is laughing at something Crowley said, leaning forward to lay his hand on the inside of Crowley’s elbow.  A maneuver the real Aziraphale would never have the courage to do.</p>
<p>Crowley <em>glows</em> at the touch.  His smile bright, his eyes crinkling with mirth, as he places his hand over Projection Aziraphale’s hand.  In the light, Aziraphale catches a gleam of gold bands on their ring fingers and he is jealous and buoyant and hopeful and yet utterly devastated at the same time. </p>
<p>And then Crowley catches sight of him. </p>
<p>The Dream shudders under the blond's feet.  The other projections in the restaurant—Projection Aziraphale included—snap their angry gazes to Aziraphale at once.  They don't scramble to tear him to pieces, which is a good sign, but they remain a silent, judgmental audience as Crowley stands and approaches him.</p>
<p>Crowley’s expression is obscured by the dark glasses he insists on always wearing, but the tight, thin line of the redhead’s lips cannot be read as nothing other than fury.</p>
<p>“You have five minutes to explain yourself,” Crowley grits out as he folds his arms over his chest.</p>
<p>“Gabriel found out that we've been… cordial,” Aziraphale begins, and then words start flying out of his mouth in his anxiousness. “He had pictures of us together and he demanded an explanation!  He started to accuse me of <em>fraternizing</em> with the enemy and I…!  I-I didn't know what else to say!  So I told him I was trying to get close to you because you were part of DreamFall's inner circle.”</p>
<p>“I'm not!  I’m just an Architect!  They hand me jobs to craft and I do it.  They barely talk to me!”</p>
<p>“I know that!” Aziraphale snaps. “But I couldn't come up with a better reason as to why we were spending time together.”</p>
<p>“Yes, this is what I wanted today,” Crowley bites out sarcastically.  “Go shopping, have dinner, get drugged, have my dreams invaded…” The redhead cuts himself off and points accusingly at Aziraphale. “You DRUGGED me!”</p>
<p>“I'm sorry!”</p>
<p>“I knew it! I <em>knew</em> there was something funny about the wine but you said it was fine and I trusted you!”  Crowley filters a frustrated growl through his teeth. “So who else is here?  I doubt HeavenCorp will just send you in.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale hesitates.  “Gabriel is in the Dream, looking for your safe.  Uriel is standing guard out in the real world.”</p>
<p>Crowley’s pacing now, hand coming up to tug absentmindedly on his hair.  (Aziraphale notes, with a strange mixture of disappointment and surprise, that the ring on the other man’s finger is gone.)</p>
<p>“Safe, right.  Yeah, standard extraction procedure...” Crowley trails off, eyes growing big as saucers.  “Aziraphale, we can't let him get to that safe.  If Gabriel opens it, he'll—it's gonna be trouble, all right?”</p>
<p>“He won’t get to it.  I have a plan.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale snaps his fingers and a perfect, cardboard rendition of the Dream’s architecture appears before them. </p>
<p>“This is the maze of the Dream,” he tells Crowley.  “Learn it and your projections will learn it as well.  Hopefully they’ll slow Gabriel down enough for me to catch up with him.”</p>
<p>“And <em>then</em> what?” The redhead asks as he memorizes the lines of the maze.</p>
<p>“I’ll give my performance.”</p>
<p>Crowley looks up and is shocked to see his own face looking back at him.  He blinks and his double blinks back.</p>
<p>“A… Aziraphale?”</p>
<p>“Yep.” Aziraphale replies as he readjusts his sunglasses.  He’s watched Crowley do this enough times that he can perfectly imitate the way his thumb and forefinger grip the right lense and lift the sunglasses a bit.  Aziraphale shoves his hands into his jean pockets and shifts his weight from one foot to the other, cocking out his hip.</p>
<p>Crowley looks… utterly speechless, his jaw hanging and his sunglasses sliding low on his nose.</p>
<p>Aziraphale grins smugly.  “I’ll intercept Gabriel as you and make it seem as if you have total and complete control over the Dream even though you’re the Subject.  I’ll subdue Gabriel, and then he’ll probably—erm—find his own way out of the Dream.  You know…”  Aziraphale extends his index and middle fingers out like a gun and taps his temple.  “That should intimidate HeavenCorp enough to back off and leave you alone.”</p>
<p>“And if word gets out to <em>my</em> boss that I’m suddenly some sort of Super Sleeper?”</p>
<p>“HeavenCorp wouldn’t dare utter anything to indicate that any employee of DreamFall is superior to their own, or at least until HeavenCorp reverse-engineers how you did it.  Which they won’t.”</p>
<p>Crowley considers this.  “All right, well, what about you?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale blinks. “What about me?”</p>
<p>“If I get to look good, then you should look good too.”  Crowley shifts and takes on Aziraphale’s appearance, adjusting his bowtie primly.</p>
<p>Aziraphale huffs, lacing his hands in front of his waist.  (Crowley copies the gesture perfectly, just to show off.)  “Really, my dear, there’s no need.  Gabriel’s already satisfied with what I’ve told him.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, <em>no</em>, angel.  Who do you think he’s going to blame when this operation doesn’t go the way he wants it?  What does Gabriel do every time he cocks something up?”</p>
<p>“Don’t say ‘cock’ while you’re wearing my face, it’s unseemly…” Aziraphale mutters.</p>
<p>“He’ll pin this on you.  You know he will.  So we’ve got to make it seem like you drank the HeavenCorp kool-aid.”</p>
<p>“The HeavenCorp <em>what?</em>”</p>
<p>“Kool-aid?  It’s a type of… Nevermind, I’ll tell you my plan on the way there.”</p>
<p>---~*~---</p>
<p>It’s been ages since Aziraphale has done fieldwork.  He’s shared the Dream with Extractors and other Architects, walked them through constructing the Dream levels, but he hasn’t been a member of an Extraction team since his first years at HeavenCorp.  Even then, he was never been an active part of the Extraction process.  Eventually, he settled into the Architecture department and kept out of Operations.  Still, he’s been crafting Dreams for a long time, and Aziraphale could never be accused of being unintelligent.</p>
<p>Aziraphale leans against the wall and waits.  Soon enough he hears the click of Gabriel’s expensive shoes along the floor and moments later the man himself appears.  There’s evidence that he’s run into some of Crowley’s projections on his way here.  Gabriel’s typical, pressed-perfect suit has a tear on one sleeve, there are scuff-marks on his shoes, and some strands of hair have come loose from its sculpted shape.</p>
<p>“Hey, Gabe,” Aziraphale drawls.</p>
<p>Gabriel’s flabbergasted expression is something Aziraphale will never, ever forget.  He lets an easy grin spread on his face as he continues. “How’s it going?  Nice place you’ve made for me, your Architect really knows what I like.”</p>
<p>“What the hell are you doing here?” Gabriel demands.</p>
<p>Aziraphale slouches off the wall and plants both feet on the ground.  “Protecting my secrets, of course.”  He knocks twice on Crowley’s door and the polished wood shivers into a solid titanium vault door worthy of the holding the Crown Jewels.</p>
<p>Gabriel’s jaw drops. “You’re not the Dreamer!  How—how the fuck did you do that?”</p>
<p>“Wouldn’t you like to know,” Aziraphale smirks.  (Goodness, he’s having way too much fun being Crowley.)</p>
<p>A gun materializes in Gabriel’s hand in a split second before he jerks his arm up—</p>
<p>Aziraphale blinks.</p>
<p>—and water streams out of the gun, wetting the floor several feet from Aziraphale’s shoes.</p>
<p>“No need to be hasty,” Aziraphale says, and his mouth twists into something menacing. “We’ve got plenty of time, after all.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale lunges.  In reality, he’s never been the most athletic, but in his Dream, he believes he is.  He raises his arm and slams his fist into Gabriel’s jaw.  Gabriel flies backwards through the hallway and hits the ground in a sprawl.</p>
<p><em>God</em>, he’s wanted to do that for <em>years</em>.</p>
<p>Gabriel scrambles to get on his feet.  The man may be self-serving and arrogant, but he is also a seasoned Extractor, and knows a hopeless job when he sees one.  He pivots on the ball of his foot and sprints away, but Aziraphale isn’t through yet.  He snaps his fingers and a line of flames flare up behind Gabriel, cutting off the other man’s exit. </p>
<p>Aziraphale sprints forward, not giving Gabriel enough time to conjure anything as he delivers a solid kick to the other man’s solar plexus.  Gabriel crumbles to the ground, doubled over and coughing.  With no risk of being seen, Aziraphale frowns uncomfortably and looks around the hall for any sign of Crowley.  There’s only so much he’s willing to draw his out. </p>
<p>And then, as if summoned, a sword flies through the air and narrowly misses Aziraphale’s head by inches.  Aziraphale parts the wall of fire for Crowley to make his grand appearance.  He teleports the sword back in Crowley’s hand for good measure as Crowley steps over the fire and in front of Gabriel.</p>
<p>“I was wondering when you’d show up, Aziraphale,” Aziraphale says.</p>
<p>“You gave me the slip earlier, but I knew where you’d be.  You’re rather predictable, Crowley,” Crowley replies, brandishing the sword.</p>
<p>Surely he didn’t sound<em> that</em> pompous!  Aziraphale scowls. </p>
<p>“I can’t believe you played me this entire time!” Aziraphale shouts, angrily.  “Six years!  I thought we were friends!”</p>
<p>Crowley scoffs.  “That wasn’t friendship, fool.  It was theatre.  I knew you could be useful to HeavenCorp one day.”</p>
<p>“Joke’s on you, innit?  You think I wouldn’t know what Dream-Sharing felt like?”</p>
<p>“It’s not over yet, Crowley.  We’re in <em>my</em> Dream, and we play by <em>my </em>rules.  I’ll have your secrets even if I have to beat it out of you!”  Crowley lunges, weapon at the ready. </p>
<p>Aziraphale conjures up his own sword to fight, willing the metal to snap as it meets Crowley’s blade.  Aziraphale hisses and leaps back.  With a thought, flames burst at the end of his broken sword and coalesce into a bright, burning blade.</p>
<p>“Not bad, Aziraphale,” Aziraphale sneers.  “But let me show you how it’s <em>really</em> done.”</p>
<p>Crowley gapes at him for a moment before he remembers himself. </p>
<p>“Gabriel, go!” Crowley shouts. “I’ll keep him occupied!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale tsks impatiently as Crowley swings out the sword again.  Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Gabriel manifest another pistol and point the barrel at his own temple.  A deafening bang rings out and Gabriel’s body drops to the floor before it vanishes entirely.</p>
<p>“You certainly took your time, my dear,” Aziraphale says, relaxing his fighting stance and Crowley’s appearance entirely.  He hums thoughtfully at the blazing sword in his hand before his banishes it.</p>
<p>“And let you miss the opportunity to kick that wanker’s pompous arse?” Crowley snickers as he shifts back to his normal form.  “Didn’t know you had it in you.”</p>
<p>“I guess you’re a worse influence than I thought,” the blond chuckles. </p>
<p>Aziraphale takes a sobering breath.  “We probably have at most a couple minutes in the Dream before Uriel ends it.  When we wake, Gabriel and Uriel will probably already be gone.  I’ll have to follow them. And you must leave as soon as you can.  They’ll keep a close watch on me, perhaps move me to a safehouse for a time, so I’m afraid we won’t be able to contact each other for a few months.  But I’ll be perfectly fine, dear, no need to worry about me.  Just—“</p>
<p>“Aziraphale.”</p>
<p>The blond blinks. “Yes?”</p>
<p>Crowley motions to the safe. “Open it.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale hesitates. “I don't have the code.”</p>
<p>“It'll open for you,” the redhead replies, quietly. </p>
<p>Aziraphale inhales sharply.  He nods, swallows thickly, and reaches for the handle.  It turns easily.  The blond swings the door open.  The safe, which is now about the size of a standard closet, is empty save for two things: a familiar tartan umbrella that is still wet with rainwater, and a single, folded slip of paper.</p>
<p>The sight of his old umbrella hits Aziraphale with a wave of nostalgia.  He’s brought back to a rainy afternoon almost two decades ago, when he was a boy.  It was after school, and he was about to make his way home, when he saw another boy—skinny, with flame-red hair—scowling under the eaves of the building as he waited out the rain. </p>
<p>(Outside the windows of the hotel, the warm, sunny day has become obscured by dark clouds.  Rain can be heard pattering softly on the windows, though neither Aziraphale nor Crowley notice.)</p>
<p>Aziraphale turns to the letter.  It's old, the paper slightly faded, but well-preserved and dry.</p>
<p>He turns to Crowley, who is as still as a statue.  He doesn't even appear to be breathing.  Crowley nods, quietly encouraging him.  The blond carefully takes the letter out.  It feels heavy in his hands, leaden with whatever secrets Crowley’s mind carefully shut away in this safe.  Aziraphale unfolds it.</p>
<p>There are only two sentences on the paper, written in a too-familiar, hasty scrawl:</p>
<p>
  <em>I love you, Aziraphale.  I’ve loved you since the moment I met you.</em>
</p>
<p>Aziraphale hand is over his mouth, tears welling up in his eyes and running down his round cheeks.</p>
<p>“I just…” Crowley starts, voice raw and trembling. “I just wanted you to know, even if I could never say it out there.  You don't have to… to say it back.  Or do anything—“</p>
<p>Aziraphale moves fast, before his courage could abandon him, before the Dream could run out.  His vision is blurry, so he cups Crowley's beautiful, angular face in his hands, and pulls him close.</p>
<p>It's a messy kiss, mixed with salty tears and soft sobs, but it doesn't matter.  They’re kissing and Aziraphale knows, without a doubt, that a Dream will never be enough.  He will never want to stop.  They will do this again, one day.  Out there.  Aziraphale is determined to make it happen.</p>
<p>Crowley is crying too.  He's fisted his trembling hands in Aziraphale's cardigan, like he's afraid the blond will disappear if he lets go.</p>
<p>“Did I ever tell you I had a dream of us?” Aziraphale whispers against his lips.[2] </p>
<p>“No,” the redhead breathes.</p>
<p>“I did.  Years and years ago.  I dreamed we grew old together, in a cottage by the sea.”   </p>
<p>Crowley drops his head to Aziraphale's shoulder.  “Sap,” he mumbles.</p>
<p>The blond laughs softly and wraps his fingers around Crowley’s left wrist, bringing the other man’s hand to his mouth so Aziraphale can lay a fond kiss to his knuckles.  Aziraphale smiles as he pulls away, leaving a gold ring on Crowley’s fourth finger.</p>
<p>“We’ll find each other again,” Aziraphale promises.</p>
<p>“I’ll wait for you,” Crowley replies.</p>
<p>And the Dream collapses. </p>
<p>---~*~---</p>
<p>It took months for the shockwave of the Crowley Operation to finally settle.  Aziraphale was questioned again and again and again, always skirting around the same topic: <em>what happened?</em>  Gabriel’s testimony of Crowley’s ability and Aziraphale’s loyalty went a long way in ensuring Aziraphale wasn’t under too much scrutiny, but the blond knew better than to think he was out of the woods yet.  He will be watched, no doubt.</p>
<p>The good thing about working for a counter-espionage corporation like HeavenCorp is that Aziraphale picked up a few tricks over the years.  The thing is: counter-espionage corporations are not interested in people perceived as boring and predictable Aziraphale knew how to be boring and predictable if he put his mind to it. </p>
<p>So he keeps his head down for the next few months.  HeavenCorp sets up guards around his home, which is better than moving to a safehouse, but still unnerving.  Aziraphale goes to work, crafts Dreams, and returns home.  He pretends he doesn’t notice the people following him.  He doesn’t falter whenever Gabriel, Michael, Uriel, or Sandalphon randomly appear around corners or stop by his cubicle.  Every day, Aziraphale picks up the newspaper, reads the articles over a nice cup of tea, and does the crossword.  Once a week, he buys himself a box of sweets from the local bakery a couple blocks from his flat.  Occasionally, if his funds permit, Aziraphale contacts people to buy books. </p>
<p>Five months after the Crowley Operation, there are no more guards in front of Aziraphale’s home.  But Aziraphale still catches the occasional tail trailing after him when he walks the streets.  The higher-ups are less present in the Architecture department.  So Aziraphale carefully begins to set things in motion.</p>
<p>The other thing about remaining boring is to slowly introduce new things so they seem natural.  Which is why about seven months after the Crowley Operation (and six hours after fighting with his ancient computer) Aziraphale sends out his first resume for a position as Architect at a commercial Dream-Sharing company.  HeavenCorp is still tracking his movements and communications, most likely.  This is proven when, a week later, Uriel asks him how he’s doing.  Aziraphale smiles politely, and says he’s perfectly fine.</p>
<p>He keeps sending out resumes over the coming months.  Aziraphale isn’t making a particular effort to be hired, he just needs the appearance that he is looking elsewhere until he finds the job that will suit his needs best.  He slowly works his way farther and farther until Aziraphale sees an opening for a teaching position at the University of Sussex, which is looking to expand its curriculum to include Dream-Sharing Sciences.  Aziraphale likes the <em>idea</em> of educating young minds, but not so much to consider doing it himself.  Still, it’s far enough from London that it’s unlikely HeavenCorp would check up on him, it’s close to the sea (it <em>must</em> be close to the sea, that’s the most important part), and the change would make it appear that he is simply trying out a new career direction.  It will do for now.</p>
<p>Aziraphale prevails through the first round of interviews on the phone and passes the in-person interview.  His skill and experience in Dream Architecture earn him some high regard—rather a refreshing attitude, honestly—and he was practically offered the job on the spot.</p>
<p>He waits a few more weeks so it can appear that he’s considering other opportunities before he turns in his two-week notice.  His resignation came with little acknowledgement beyond a standard clap on the back and a “good luck” from his cube mate. </p>
<p>Perfect.</p>
<p>---~*~---</p>
<p>Aziraphale is waiting for a train from London to Brighton.  From there, he will take another train to Falmer.  He’s already sent his things ahead of him to his rented flat.  His suitcase is filled not with clothes, but priceless first editions he couldn’t risk moving unsupervised.  As the train comes into the station, he can’t help but think of a riddle he once read in elementary.</p>
<p>
  <em>You’re waiting for a train, a train that will take you far away.[3]  </em>
</p>
<p>Aziraphale steps into the carriage, looks for his seat, and finds—</p>
<p>The blond inhales sharply, his heart jackrabbiting in his chest. </p>
<p>“Hey, angel,” Crowley greets, lowering the newspaper a fraction.  Oh, he is as lovely as ever.  He’s grown his hair out a bit too, and it falls in luscious, red curls around his angular face.  Aziraphale takes a moment to casually survey his surroundings, most of the other passengers are occupying themselves.  To anyone else in the train, there are just two strangers who just happened to be on the same carriage.</p>
<p>
  <em>You know where you hope this train will take you, but you don’t know for sure.  </em>
</p>
<p>“Hello, my dear,” Aziraphale breathes as he sits. </p>
<p>“So.  Teaching,” Crowley says.  “Looking to impart your wisdom on impressionable young minds?”</p>
<p>The blond shudders.  “Well, ‘Professor Fell’ does have a rather pleasant ring to it, don’t you think?”</p>
<p>Crowley chuckles.                                        </p>
<p>“How did you know I was going to be on this train?” Aziraphale asks.</p>
<p>“I have my ways,” the redhead replies with a wry smirk.</p>
<p><em>But it doesn’t matter.  Why doesn’t it matter?</em> </p>
<p>Aziraphale thinks of many replies to that, ranging from snarky to affectionate.  There are questions too.  But none of them make it passed his lips.  Crowley is beside him, Crowley is here, and HeavenCorp is behind them both.  So Aziraphale reaches across the small gap between them and, to his utter delight, Crowley reaches back and threads his slim fingers through his own.</p>
<p>
  <em>Because you’ll be together.</em>
</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>[1] The École d'Architecture is the same school Ariadne attends in Inception.</p>
<p>[2] In Inception, Dominic Cobb opened his marriage proposal to his future wife, Mal, by a saying he had a dream they grew old together.</p>
<p>[3] I couldn’t write an Inception AU fic and not include this goddamn line.  It was so beautiful (and sad) and hopeful.</p>
<p>This fic started because I had this scene of Aziraphale watching Crowley and Projection Aziraphale talking to each other, and Aziraphale seeing everything that Crowley wanted but didn’t have in the waking world.  Crowley not wanting any flash or fancy romance, he just wanted Aziraphale beside him always.  And then my brain sorta leaped into a scenario where Aziraphale opens Crowley’s safe of soft, unrequited love and that’s when I knew I had to write it out in a full-fledge fic.</p>
<p>This was intended as a one-shot, so I don’t plan on adding more.  It was challenging to write because I had to attempt to weave in as much exposition as I can both about the concept of Dream-Sharing and Aziraphale and Crowley’s past in this fic without having to halt the story for it.</p>
<p>Anyway!  I hope you liked this fic!  Thank you very much for reading it!</p>
<p>Read on guys, read on.</p>
<p>|Corrosive Moon|</p></blockquote></div></div>
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